Artificial Selection
by the morrighan
Summary: Genes are not the only things to alter behavior.
1. Chapter 1

Artificial Selection

Yellow.

The bright color was a glob on a slide, stained to the garish hue to be immediately noticeable as it slid along the cell walls, like a predator circling, seeking entrance. Moira Sheppard frowned, staring into the microscope. "It's not working. Carson, do you see?"

"Aye, love, I see," the Scottish doctor agreed, examining his own slide as they sat in the infirmary. "The retro-virus can strip the bug DNA and just leave the human...but the reverse does not work. When we attempt to strip away the human DNA to just leave the bug DNA the result is necrosis. Complete cell death. An organism wouldn't survive the process if we even tried to attempt it."

"So what does that mean?" Moira asked. "Those Wraith mutations weren't caused by another version of the retro-virus. What caused them?" She glanced at the stroller. The baby was playing with a set of toys attached to the front bar. Little brows furrowed in concentration, lower lip sticking out as he pondered how to make them move. Looking just like his father. She smiled at the resemblance.

"Frankly, I have no idea," Carson Beckett sighed, sat back from the microscope. "We're missing a crucial element here, but I can't work my mind to it. Some other protein. Perhaps those mutations were naturally occurring. Such things do happen."

Moira sighed, stood and squatted near the stroller. She spun the toys. They clanged in a series of notes. The baby chortled, smiling. Little hands grabbing at the soft plastic shapes. "There, Johnny, see?" She kissed the baby, stood. "Carson, we've always believed that the Ancients created the Wraith, correct?"

"Yes, either through accident or design...and you suggested after that evolution may have taken over from there."

"Yes. I think we need to look at why. Why would the Ancients create these creatures in the first place?" Moira asked. "And what could be changing some of them now?"

"Doctor Sheppard to the 'Gate room. Doctor Sheppard to the 'Gate room," a voice announced over the PA.

Moira smiled at the summons. A sense of relief and anticipation sweeping through her. "Johnny! Did you hear that? Daddy's finally home!" The baby gurgled at her. "Excuse me, Carson! I need to, um, get ready! Let's go, Johnny!" She wheeled the infant out of the infirmary.

"Mama! Mama!" the baby prattled, gurgling as he was wheeled into their quarters.

"Yes, darling! Let me change and then we can go see daddy!" She loosened her ponytail, pulling a few strands of hair free, knowing John liked the messy look. As if it made her more accessible to him. She smoothed down her lilac V-neck shirt, pulled it lower with a smirk. She smoothed the khaki pants over her rear. Grinned, knowing his avid interest. She returned to the baby, lifted him. Kissed him. "Here we go, Johnny! Let's go see daddy!"

John Sheppard emerged from the wormhole with his team. Shaking his head he stepped to Elizabeth Weir who stood waiting. "There's not much left, I'm afraid. The ZPM was nearly fried but we brought it along with us anyway. We just missed being culled ourselves. We had to hide out in the caves with the villagers. There weren't many survivors," he grimly noted. "And we did what we could but that..." He broke off, seeing Moira holding the baby as she entered the 'Gate room, stood waiting. He smiled.

"Gaga! Gaga goo!" the baby cried, little arms waving towards his father.

"I suppose a depleted ZPM is better than none," Elizabeth noted, glancing at Rodney McKay who was clutching the Ancient device to him like a teddy bear.

"Huh?" John met her gaze, startled by his son's words. "Oh yeah, depleted. Rodney thinks he could use it to–"

"I'm sure your kid could activate it," Rodney remarked.

"My son is not a battery charger!"

"Gaga goo! Gaga, gaga!" the baby repeated. Insisted. Demanding his father as he squirmed in his mother's arms.

Elizabeth smiled at John's perplexed expression. "Your son is calling you, John. Go on. Debrief in thirty."

"Me? He's calling..." John stared at Moira and the baby, seemingly frozen in place. The team laughed indulgently. He strode to his wife and son. "Moy?" he asked. "He's–"

"Talking? A very little, John. It's more sounds than actual words. He missed you."

"John," Rodney called, smirking, "are you going to tell her about the woman?"

"What woman?" Moira asked.

"Well, women, really," Rodney clarified. "I don't know if it's just him, or the wedding ring, or if he smells like baby now, but they were all over him! Very keen to initiate a welcoming ceremony, weren't they, John?"

"That's enough, Rodney," John curtly interrupted. Let the baby catch his finger in one little hand. Met his wife's gaze. "It was nothing, Moira."

"Nothing?" Rodney exclaimed, warming to the subject. "I'm telling you, Moira, if it had been me surrounded by those beautiful, eager women of that earldom I would have–"

"But it wasn't you so shut up!" John rebuked.

"Hmm...this sounds like it will be a very interesting debrief," Elizabeth teased. "Maybe Moira should attend as well."

"Maybe I will," Moira agreed.

"John had those women practically panting to–"

"That's enough, Rodney!" John snapped.

The baby started to fuss. "He's hungry, John. It's lunchtime. Grab me a sandwich on your way to us, would you?"

"Okay, Moira." John freed his finger. "Hungry again, huh?" His gaze lowered to her breasts. He smiled. "So am I."

Moira frowned as he met her gaze. "Hilarious, John."

"I'll meet you in five. Ours. I've got to drop off my ordnance first."

"Oh?" She smiled coyly, gaze running down to his crotch, back to his face. "Not all of it, I hope, colonel."

He smiled. "Not all, baby. Don't feed junior until I'm there."

"Gaga!" the baby cried.

John touched the baby's arm. Tickled. "Dada, junior. Get it right. In five, Moira."

Moira smiled. Quickly kissed him, left. Called over her shoulder, "don't forget my sandwich, flyboy!"

"As ordered, your highness!" he rejoined. Turned to see his team staring at him. "What?" He shrugged, headed out of the 'Gate room. Feeling a surge of pride, of relief at being back home. At being back with his wife and son.

He dropped off his P90, TAC vest. Strode to the cafeteria to grab some food. Almost sprinted to his room. He entered, frowned. "Shit! When did that happen?" He carried a tray to the table. Sat next to Moira as she sat on the bed, cradling the baby as she fed him from a bottle.

"Just recently, John. He's stubborn, but he's taking to it gradually."

"Oh." Disappointment. "Oh." Realization. He smiled. "So the girls are my sole property once again, baby?"

She laughed. "Yes, pretty much, sweetie. At my discretion."

"Of course. Wonderful." He stood, moved to the bathroom. Washed his hands, his face. Pushing aside emotions. He returned, sat at the table to grab a beer. He sipped, long swallows.

Moira smirked, looking from one to the other. Both sucking down their beverages with gusto. Lips locked around their respective bottles. John made a satisfied sound, licked his lips. Just as the baby freed the bottle to do the same.

John burped. "Sorry, Moy!"

She laughed as the baby burped. Grinned at her. "You two are scarily alike sometimes. Here!" She stood, handed him the baby and a burping cloth. "Hold him while I eat." She sat, unwrapped the sandwich and devoured it. The baby gurgled, burping at his father's shoulder. Spitting up a little.

"Gaga!"

"Dada, yes, sport. Here we go, captain." John stood, holding the infant at his shoulder. Walked round, gently patting his back.

"So...women?" Moira asked round a mouthful, watching him.

"Huh? Oh. That. Rodney was exaggerating. That's all. What's this? Impromptu kitchen?" He stared at the camp stove set near the far side of the table.

"Yes. Jason set it up for me. For the bottles. To heat Johnny's milk and to sterilize the bottles," she explained.

"I see the fridge is in here too," John noted, gaze moving to the compact refrigerator.

"Yes. It just made sense, John. Not to be in the nursery."

"I'm surprised you didn't have him double check the crib or build a jungle gym while he was at it," John sourly said. An odd jealousy flaring.

Moira smiled. "No. The crib you built is fine. Sturdy. Johnny's almost used to it now although he might want to be back in here since you're home. I've had to sleep in my old bed next to the crib a few nights to ease him into his nursery. Besides, John, I know you don't want anyone doing that stuff besides you. I didn't want you to think Jason was impinging on your territory, being alpha male and all," she teased.

"Yeah, I don't like anyone impinging on my territory. Or my wife's." He met her gaze, saw her merriment. "It's not funny, Moira."

"Yes, it is, sweetie. So alpha."

John sighed. Sat on the bed, held the baby on his lap. "Is that so, captain?"

Moira sat next to John, touched his arm. "Are you all right, sweetie? The mission?"

"Later, Moy. We've only got thirty before I have to leave."

"Oh oh...he's got that look. You better move him, John," she warned.

"Move him? Why? What look? Oh," he replied, feeling the diaper filling.

Moira laughed. "Somebody did a messy!"

The baby looked at his father, gurgled as John lifted him. "I'll say! Shit!" He eyed the stain on his pants. "You think that's funny, captain? Here–"

"Oh no!" Moira held up her hands. "It's your turn, colonel. Everything is in his room on the changing table." She pointed to the nursery.

John sighed. "Fine. Let's go, captain." He carried the baby into the nursery.

"Don't forget the baby powder, John!" Moira called.

"I know, Moy! I've done this before!" John called back to her, sounding irritated. "Don't you worry, captain. Military precision. Hey, Moira! Could you get me a clean pair of pants?"

"Yes, colonel." She laughed, moved to the dresser and pulled out a pair.

"Damn!"

"John?"

"Grab me a clean shirt too, Moy. He shoots he scores."

Moira laughed. "I'm glad he hit you for a change!"

"Hilarious, Moira!" John smiled at the baby. "Oh, you think that's funny, captain?"

"Gaga! Gaga goo!" the baby prattled happily.

"Dada do. This is pretty funny too, captain." He blew a wet raspberry on the baby's bare tummy. The baby giggled in delight. John laughed, finished changing the diaper. Dressed the infant. "Here we go, captain!" He lifted the baby high in the air, made plane sounds and carried him back to his room. The infant gurgled, giggled. Blue eyes bright. "Here. Clean and dry." He handed the baby to Moira, pulled off his shirt. "Wish I could say the same."

"Mama! Mama goo!"

Moira laughed. "Yes, darling, good job!" She smirked at her husband's scowl. "Did daddy do a good job?" She kissed the baby, set him into his playpen, watching John pull on the clean shirt.

"Wait! What's this?" She moved to him, touched his side where a bruise was forming.

"Nothing, Moy. We tumbled down to the caverns. Just a bump." He smiled. "Do you want to kiss it and make it all better, baby?"

She smiled. Kissed him. "Later, sweetie. Get your pants off."

"Huh? Oh." He sat, undid his boots. Stood. "No comments about my undies, baby." He pulled off the soiled pants. Frowned at Moira's snicker.

"Oh John...those are–"

"Hush! Or I will spank that pert little ass blue, baby!" he vowed.

Moira ran her hand up his back, slid in front of him before he could put on the pants. "Oh sweetie, what's the rush?" She kissed him. A long, yielding kiss, opening her mouth to his. Inviting his tongue with a flicker of her own.

John's arms encircled her, pulling her against him. "Moira," he muttered. Nibbled her earlobe. "Fuck. I only have ten."

"That's too bad, sweetie. I never could resist a man in polka dots." She laughed. "Ow!"she complained as he swatted her rear.

He smirked. "Baby, when I get back I will personally inspect every inch of your–"

"Colonel Sheppard to the conference room!"

"Shit." He freed her, pulled on his pants. Sat to restore his boots to his feet.

Moira sighed. "I thought you had ten."

"So did I. Wait for me." He kissed her as he stood. "Moira." He freed her, moved to the door. Turned back to her. "Have the girls out for my inspection."

"Hilarious, John!"

He grinned. "I'm serious, Moira. I'm the only John Sheppard to suck those fucking beautiful tits now, aren't I?"

"John!"

He laughed, winked at the baby, and left.


	2. Chapter 2

Artificial Selection2

John strolled into the conference room, slumped into a chair a t the end of the table. Close to the doorway, as if he would need a quick escape. He met Rodney's smirk with a frown. "What? Let's make this quick. My son," he paused, pride ringing in his voice, "missed me."

"I bet Moira won't be missing you. Not after she hears about those women," Rodney quipped.

"Yes. Tell me about these mysterious women," Elizabeth encouraged, leaning forward in her chair. She raised a brow, seeing Teyla Emmagen's smile of amusement. Ronon Dex's sly grin of humor. Rodney's envy all too obvious, but also his mirth. John almost squirmed in his seat.

"Just the usual," Ronon state with a sigh, causing a round of smiles. "They were all over Sheppard."

"Even more than usual this time, however," Teyla corrected, trying not to laugh.

"You wouldn't believe how they wanted to welcome him, Elizabeth!" Rodney exclaimed, hands on the table. "I mean they came right out and said it! No wallflowers there! Talk about forging an alliance!" He smiled, seeing John's obvious discomfort. "You should have seen the kiss she gave him! I mean a full-on, no holds barred kind of–"

"Enough!" John snapped, but Rodney ignored him.

"–open-mouthed French invitation! I can't wait to tell Moira all the gory details!"

"Go on, then! Tell her! Moira knows she has nothing to worry about. She trust me completely and has every right to do so!"

"Okay, John, don't be so pissy. It's just some harmless fun," Rodney ameliorated, puzzled by his friend's vehement tone.

"I thought it was funny how they nearly dragged you to their lair," Ronon noted with a grin. "I thought we would have to shoot our way out of there."

"Perhaps we need a less attractive leader," Teyla suggested, arching a brow. "Or at least one who is able to forge alliances in several ways." Laughter burst around the table.

"He would have been shepherd's pie if not for us!" Rodney agreed.

"Enough!" John slammed his palm on the table, making the lap tops jump. Silence. "If we're not going to discuss the damn mission I'm leaving!"

"We are discussing the mission, John. What's your problem? Oh, I know what it is," Rodney snidely stated. "Being the center of attention and attraction on every planet must be a burden to you." Laughter. "Is that your burden of command?"

John stood, irritated when once he would have enjoyed the jests. Even been smug about them. He eyed Elizabeth. "You'll have my report on your desk in an hour. About the Wraith. The culling. The caves. The next village's hostility. Remember any of that?" He glared at his teammates.

"John? Wait! What are you–" Elizabeth began, startled.

"Oh come on, John! Is the burden of being too handsome too much for you now that you are married and have a kid? It never bothered you before! All those women wanting you!" Rodney challenged. "Hell, you even encouraged it half of the time!"

"Shut up, Rodney!" John strode out of the conference room. Pissed.

Elizabeth sighed. Eyed the bewildered team, their mutual puzzlement. "All right. What happened? What really happened out there?"

John stomped to his room. Found it empty. He grabbed a beer from the fridge. Downed it in quick, long swallows. Drained the bottle. He stared at the bed. It was neatly made. A tiny jacket and hat lay upon it. Johnny's. He eyed the playpen. A few toys were scattered in it, along with his blue blanket. He debated. Emotions gnawing at him.

He recalled the women of that village. The humor of the situation, trying to extricate himself and refuse their sexual invitations all the while trying to find out about the possible ZPM and recent Wraith cullings the planet had suffered. The contrast with the next village couldn't have been more marked, and John wondered at it. Until the Wraith came.

His fingers tightened on the empty bottle. The rush to rescue, then escape the Wraith descending upon them all. The uncharacteristic indecision slowing his responses, reactions. Then the caves. He scowled, shoving the emotions aside with almost physical force. He almost threw the bottle across the room but instead moved to toss it into the trash can.

He strode out of the room.

Moira was laughing, squatting by the stroller in the biology lab. Peter squatted next to her as the baby gurgled, giggled. Little hands clapping clumsily at all the attention. "There's a good boy! Give Uncle Peter back his safety goggles now, there's a good boy." She handed them back to the older man. "Sorry."

"No problem, Moira," Peter Harrison said, taking the goggles. "They are fascinating, aren't they, young man? Oh..." He wiped off a strap where the baby had sucked.

Moira snorted. "Sorry about that as well. He has to taste everything. Don't you, silly boy?" She kissed the baby. He chortled happily. Big blue eyes bright.

"Look at those dimples!" Peter touched a rosy cheek. Tickled. The baby giggled, caught his finger.

"I know. He takes after John in nearly every way. It's like I wasn't there at all," she sighed. They laughed.

"Mama!"

She smiled, kissed the baby. "Yes, darling. Now be good. We have work to do. You are as distracting as your father." She stood as Peter did. "Sorry about–"

"What? Nonsense, Moira! He's always welcome here, you know that. We'll make a scientist of him yet. Won't we, Johnny?"

"Ga!" They laughed.

"Not if John has his way. He wants Johnny to be a pilot, like him."

"Well, that's the military for you. Always wanting soldiers, aren't they? I'll go get the vials." He moved into the other room.

Moira sat on a chair, turned to the microscope. "You're not going to be a soldier, Johnny. A pilot, like John, that's all. And a scientist." She viewed the lens, powered up the data screen. "We need to approach this from a biological view, so it's back to the bugs, I'm afraid."

"And what samples we have of Wraith tissue. These mutations could be natural," Peter replied from the other room.

"Yes, I know...but what if they're not? Random mutations do occur in nature, of course, but since we're talking about the Wraith, well, it would be like talking about mutations in us, for example. Disease. Toxins. Experimentation. Anything. And I think the Wraith are a much more carefully controlled population than we'll ever be."

The baby prattled. Began to fuss. Verging on crying he whined, whimpered. "Mama! Mama! Mama!"

"What, Johnny? Oh." She turned, picked up the life signs detector that had fallen from his stroller. "Here, darling." She placed it on his lap, kissed him. "Now let mommy work, okay?" The baby clapped, cooed. Touched the device. It flared to life. Moira turned back to the data screen as the baby resumed his prattling.

John walked into the lab. Moira was leaning over to view the microscope, one hand still on the keyboard as the other balanced a slide. "Moira Sheppard!" he sternly called.

"Gaga! Gaga goo!" the baby exclaimed, looking up as his father towered over him.

"Shit!" Moira fumbled with the keyboard, nearly dropped the slide. "Damn it, John, don't do that!" She set the slide down. Frowned at the screen and deleted the garbled entry.

"What the hell is my son doing with this?" John demanded, grabbing the Ancient device from the infant. The baby whimpered, reaching for it.

Moira turned to him. "It's harmless and it makes him happy. Give it back to him, John."

"I don't want him playing with Ancient tech, Moira! You know the potential he has!"

"It's only a life signs detector, John! It can't possibly hurt him." The baby started to fuss. Moira sighed. "John!" She stood, took the device from her husband. Squatted. "Here, darling. Daddy's just in a pissy mood. Again." She kissed the baby as he calmed, cooed. "Look, John." She looked up to see him staring down the front of her shirt. The V-neck gave him a generous view of her breasts and the bra.

John smiled. "Lavender lace," he quietly noted.

Moira reacted to his low, still angered voice. The hint of passion slithering along her skin. Making her tighten, tense. "John! Look at your son!" she clarified, a little breathlessly. His gaze flicked to hers, a knowing smile appearing briefly. He eyed his son. The tech was powered brightly, glowing the readings of the city's inhabitants. All of them.

"Wow. Is he reading all of Atlantis?" John asked, staring. Not knowing whether to be proud or concerned.

"I think so. To him it's just a light show with moving dots. See? It's harmless and keeps him occupied." She kissed the baby again, stood. Almost knocking into John as he stepped closer. "What's wrong now?"

"Why was Johnny's jacket on the bed?" he asked instead, voice milder now.

She replied, "we were going to see if you wanted to have a picnic on the mainland. But I guess not now since you are in a pissy mood."

"Sounds good to me, Moy. I'll take junior and get his jacket. You get some food. Burgers and the usual, okay? I'll meet you in the Jumper bay." He began to wheel the baby away from her.

"John? You want–"

"In ten, Moy, or we'll leave without you," he called over his shoulder.

Moira sighed, watching him take the baby out of the lab. "Don't forget his hat, John! John!" She sighed again, wondering at his mood. Turned as Peter emerged, a tray of vials in his hands.

"Sorry...duty calls. If it's not one it's the other," she explained, shrugging.

Peter smiled. "I understand, Moira. The work will still be here when you get back."


	3. Chapter 3

Artificial Selection3

John squatted near the stroller as it sat in the Jumper. His son was happily prattling, staring round with wide blue eyes. Suddenly the infant looked at his father. "Gaga gaga goo?"

John smiled. "Dada. Dada, junior. Get it right, okay?" He ruffled the baby's dark hair, causing a frown. John softly laughed. "Yeah, I'd hate that too, buddy." He looked over his shoulder. "Where's your mother? She's always late, you know that, captain? We'll have to discipline her later. Well, I will." He smiled. "Lavender lace." He moved to the open hatchway to see Moira walking towards it, hamper in both hands. "Moira!" he yelled, "move that lavender-clad pert little ass of yours!"

Moira ignored him, deliberately slowed her steps to make him scowl. She reached the hatch, stepped up the ramp. John took the hamper from her and set it near the seats. Moira moved to the baby as John closed the hatch. She squatted, saw the baby had on his little blue jacket. His hat was perched on his lap. She kissed him. "Are you all right, darling? Is daddy still pissy?"

"He's fine. Get that pert little ass into the–"

"Will you shut up about my ass?" she flared. Sat in the co-pilot's seat and pulled the stroller closer to her. "John, are you sure you want to–"

John slid into the pilot's seat. "This is Sheppard," he said, powering the ship. It rose slowly. Systems flared to life. The baby clapped, cooed. "Open the doors. Don't contact me unless it is dire! Got it?"

"Yes, sir! Opening doors!" came the voice of a nervous man.

"Sheppard out!" He flew the ship up, up, through the doors. He spun it round, flew across the city. The baby gurgled happily, clapping.

"Well, at least someone's happy," Moira dryly noted. "John, sweetie, what's wrong?"

"Not now, Moira. I just need to get away with you and junior. All right?"

"All right," she relented, worrying. She watched the ocean sparkling beneath them. Considered. Glancing at John to see him staring at the horizon, guiding the ship effortlessly. "Johnny's trying to do all sorts of things," she began, trying to relax her husband, to distract him from whatever was bothering him. "He's crawling all over the place now, well, trying to, but he's getting very good at it. He's even trying to climb out of the playpen! I fear he's going to be a climber, John. He'll be into everything. Is there any way to baby-proof all of Atlantis?"

"We'll find a way," he finally stated, easing the ship over the mainland now. He activated the HUD, looked for a suitable spot. The baby clapped, prattled loudly. "Like that, junior? Yeah, it is pretty cool, huh? What else, Moira? Ah...that will do nicely."

She considered. "Well, you've noticed his prattling. He does that more and more. Nearly all of the time, actually. Sometimes I think I hear actual words but he's too young yet. My brain is just trying to decipher his random sounds, although I do understand what some of his words mean for certain items. Mama, of course. And he calls you gaga. I was trying to teach him to say dada to surprise you. I would show him pictures of you and he did recognize you but for some reason it's easier for him to say gaga instead of dada. It's funny, don't you think? I know what you're thinking, John, that he gets his babbling from me," she accused, seeing the smile on his face.

"Did I say anything?" he retorted fondly, easing the ship down to a smooth landing in a clearing. The forest loomed, casting shadows across the ship.

"No, but I know you're thinking it," she continued. "Let me tell you, sweetie, he definitely gets his stubborn streak from you."

"Me?" he asked innocently, relaxing at last as Moira talked and the baby babbled. Clapped his hands as the ship hummed softly. John powered it down. "I'm not stubborn."

"Yeah, right," she snorted. Stood. Wheeled the stroller to the back with one hand, grabbing the hamper with the other.

John took the hamper from her, grabbed a blanket. He opened the hatch and stepped down the ramp. A warm breeze kissed his skin. He looked round the clearing as he stepped onto the soft grass. He moved to a sunny spot. Spread out the blanket and sat. Opened the hamper.

Moira joined him. Freed the baby from the stroller and set him between them. The infant had fallen silent, staring round. Mouth open. She smiled, kissed him. "It's all right, Johnny. It's just outside. You'll be safe. No, Johnny, keep your hat on." She replaced the tiny baseball cap onto his head. "There."

The baby patted the plaid blanket under him. Moira handed him his toy plane, eyes on him as he prattled softly, feeling the soft grass under the blanket and marveling.

"Moy."

She looked up to see John holding out a wrapped burger and a Coke. She took them. "Thanks." She began to eat.

John ate his. Drank some beer, glad she knew him so well. "Look, Moy. I'm sorry."

Moira sipped her Coke. "No, Johnny, leave your hat on." She put it back on his head. The baby prattled, grinned at his father. Crawled to touch John's leg.

John smiled. "I don't think he likes the hat, Moy."

Moira touched the baby's back as he pulled off the hat, gurgled at his father. "No, Johnny. Leave it on." She put it back onto his head.

"Let him be, Moira. He's shaded enough between us. Besides, it's messing up his hair." He set his beer aside, took the hat from his son. "Maybe this isn't his team," he jested. He met her gaze. Moira frowned, took the hat from him and put it back onto the baby's head. "Now who's being pissy?" he commented.

"Is it any wonder?" she snapped. Sighed. Scooted closer and kissed him suddenly. A long, welcoming motion of her lips on his. "John. What's wrong? It's the mission, isn't it?"

"Some," he admitted. He stretched out on his back, sighed. "Not yet, Moy. Okay? Just let me enjoy this."

"Okay, John." She scooted closer, reclined on her side towards him, propped up on her elbow. She ran her fingers through his hair. "Sweetie, relax. We're...no, Johnny." She looked down as the baby whimpered, touching her breasts. Little fingers pulling at the V-neck shirt.

John smirked, watching. "That's my boy."

"It's not funny, John! No, Johnny." She freed her shirt. "We don't do that anymore." The baby fussed.

"Oh come on, Moy. You can't conceal the girls from us." John reached over, pulled down the shirt. Slid his fingers into the bra.

"John!" She smacked his hand, sat. "No, it's not funny! Here, Johnny." She gave the infant a toy.

John snorted. Caressed his son's back. "It's all right, junior. I make the same sounds when she covers up those fucking beautiful tits."

"Shut up, John! You are a–"

He sat, kissed her. Cutting off whatever insult she had been planning. His hand slid into her shirt again to fondle, to tease the nipple into hardness. His mouth catching hers, tongue gliding until she murmured, reacting to his touch, his kiss, his desire as he moved her onto her back. Slid closer to her, closer. The baby giggled, caught between them.

"John, you–"

He kissed her again, gently squeezing her breast as his mouth moved along her throat. "Lavender lace, baby," he hotly intoned against her skin, but moved back as the baby prattled, grabbing onto his father's belt buckle. "Oh."

Moira smiled at his expression. "That's my boy. Get those pants off him, Johnny."

John smiled. "Don't tease me, Moira. Not about sex. Not now." He glanced round the clearing.

"John? Here? Now? Seriously? The baby–"

"Why not?" he countered. "The captain is certainly used to us doing it, Moy." He met her gaze. "No interruptions. I want that lavender lace tight and translucent, baby. Drenched as I suck it. All of it."

Moira shifted under his gaze, his low voice. "John, you–"

He scooted the baby over a little, moved over him to slide his body onto hers. He kissed her. "This what I've been...hey!" He looked over as the baby crawled to him, clasping his sleeve. Grinning.

"This won't work, John," Moira noted, kissing his throat as he watched his son gurgling.

"Fuck, er, fudge, Moy. I need a good fudge."

"Atlantis, sweetie. Bed."

He sighed, met her gaze. Moved off her to lay on his back. He caught his son, lifted him high. "There you go, captain!" The baby giggled, cooed, beaming as his father swung him slowly in the air. Up and down, back and forth. "Fly, captain, fly!"

Moira smiled, scooted close. Kissed John's throat. Touched his chest. "John."

He lowered the baby onto his waist, held him as he stared round. "Moira. What about Jumper sex, then?"

"Hilarious, John. No. Not with the baby here."

John set the baby between them. Sat. "I just..." He looked down as the baby touched the life signs detector. It flared. Revealing dots, motion.

"What is it?" Moira asked, seeing John's abrupt solemnity.

John eyed the screen, looked around the clearing. The trees surrounding them. "Three approaching."

"Three what?"

"Don't know. Keep him close." John touched his sidearm as he stood. Scanned the vegetation, every sense alert. Moira sat, gathered the baby to her arms. He fussed, squirming, wanting to explore. She kissed him, gaze locked on her husband. John gently took the device from his son, causing more fussing. "Huh. They're not there now. Maybe junior's reading farther than I thought. Still, let's go, Moy."

"Okay." She placed the baby into his stroller, strapping him in securely. John gathered the hamper, the blanket as she rolled the infant to the Jumper. John followed her, set the hamper and blanket aside. Shut the hatch. "It was probably nothing, John. Maybe some Athosian hunters."

"Maybe." He moved to the pilot seat as Moira sat next to him, pulling the stroller close. John powered the ship. The baby clapped, cooed. Prattled loudly as John raised it slowly off the ground. He activated the HUD, scanning. "Three life signs...wow. In the next grid! Damn! Junior's got a power surge all his own."

"So it was nothing," she remarked.

"Apparently. We could have had sex, baby."

"No, sweetie. Bed."

"Bed? I want you in those lavender lace undies and nothing else, baby. I will personally remove them."

"As ordered, colonel. Bed."

He flew the ship above the trees. "Moy...thanks."

"For?"

"Not asking about the mission. Or my mood. I don't want to talk about either right now."

"Okay, John. When you're ready." She stared at him a moment. He was flying the ship, hands on the controls, gazing out the viewport. "You, you are okay, aren't you?"

"I'm fine." The ocean came into view. Sparkling waters that were rushing towards the distant city poised upon them. Suddenly he veered the ship in a turning arc. Moira grabbed the stroller as the baby chortled, clapping.

"John! What the–"

"Not yet, Moy. Hold on, junior!" The Jumper executed a perfect 360 over the waters.

"John!" Moira scolded, as the baby exclaimed in delight.

"Ga! Gaga goo! Gaga goo!"

John glanced at his son, grinned. "You got that right, captain. Dada. Dada," he pronounced emphatically. Looked out the viewport at the sparkling waves. "Shielding."

"What? You're going under?" Moira exclaimed.

John met her gaze, smiled wickedly. "Repeatedly, baby."


	4. Chapter 4

Artificial Selection4

The waves engulfed them. Like a giant hand closing over them, a hand of blue green waters that sought to crush them. But the shield protected the ship as John guided it into the depths. The baby fell silent, staring at the waters enveloping the viewport. Touched his mother's hand as it rested on the stroller's front bar.

John checked the readings. "Shields one hundred percent."

"John? You–"

"I want total privacy, baby. For repeated diving. Lavender lace," he said huskily, savoring the words. His body already tensing with anticipation. Desire.

"John, no kinky with the baby on–"

"Of course not, Moy. Just with you." He set the ship down gently, checked the readings. "Shields holding. It's perfectly safe, Moira. Here we go, captain!" He stood. Lifted the baby out of the stroller, carried him to the back. He flipped open a panel, adjusted controls.

"John?" Moira stood, staring.

"I'm extending the shield. Just a little. No, captain, don't touch." He drew the baby back and closed the panel. He opened the hatch. The shield glimmered, creating an underwater tunnel, an extension of the ship. "See? Look at the fish, Johnny! Look!" He carried the baby into the ocean. The baby stared, quiet. Holding onto his father. "What's that, Johnny? A fish. See? Fish." A school darted by, neon blues and oranges that flickered like banners before they were swallowed in the depths.

Moira moved to the ramp, stood watching. Oddly uneasy, remembering the last time they had been in a shielded Jumper. Having a picnic. Making love. Then crossing into an anomaly, to another Atlantis. A darker, grimmer Atlantis. She felt a shiver at the memory of that other city. Of that other John Sheppard. A harsher, more dour man. The same man, yet not at all.

The baby fussed, reaching out to touch the shield. "No, Johnny." John drew the little hand back. "We don't need you powering the shield any further. With your mojo it would probably extend all the way to Atlantis."

"Mama?"

"It's all right, son. Look at that!" John directed the infant's attention to another school of fish. Silver waves of scales and bulging eyes. He gently bounced the infant as he walked the short perimeter, pointing out the various sights. The waters were clear, but dark. The sunlight was high above them, cascading down in bluish waves until it was a mere shadow at the depths.

The baby gurgled, resting his head on his father's shoulder. The novelty quickly fading as the comfort of his father's touch and warmth soothed, secured. John kissed the child. "See that? That's a turtle. I'm sure your mother could go on and on and on about it." He glanced at his wife to see her mock glare. Smiled. "Here we go, captain." He carried the baby back to the ship, stepping past Moira. "He's falling asleep." He adjusted the stroller so the baby could recline. Set him into it. Covered him with a blanket. "There you go, captain. Take a nap." He looked over as Moira sat on the back seat, watching. Frowning.

John scowled. Stepped to her. "What?" She was silent. He stepped closer. "You know what's next, don't you? You know you want it, baby. Believe me, it wants you."

"Hilarious, John, you–"

"I'm not kidding, Moira." He stepped closer, crotch nearly in her face. "This is what I want. Don't believe me? Undo my pants and see for yourself. Now!" he ordered sternly.

Moira sighed, unable to gauge his mood. Reacting despite herself. His harsh tone. The low thrum of desire. Need. His handsome face serious. The dangerous edge to his voice that made her lower body tighten, damp. She touched his waist. Undid his belt. Undid his pants. Unzipped. Slid her hand in to feel him becoming hard in his shorts. She stroked, running her nails up and down the length of him. The solid, big, stiffening length of him, making him groan softly. "Colonel Sheppard," she purred, "that's some big ordnance you've got in your pants. Highly unstable. It must be a burden to–"

"Yes, it could go off at any moment," he agreed tersely. Her touches arousing, instigating until she freed him, withdrawing her hand. Met his gaze and stared at the intensity. "This is what I want you to do, baby. Take off your shirt. Take off your shoes. Take off your pants. Go out there," he pointed at the extended shield, "and wait for me."

Moira stared. Chewed her lower lip, debating. Teasing. Wondering at his mood. Was aroused and puzzled all at once. "John, look, you obviously need to talk about the–"

"I gave you an order, baby. A direct order from your military commander. Take off your shirt. Take off your shoes. Take off your pants. Go out there and wait for me." His voice was stern, strict. A low growl of desire, of male hunger in it making her tighten. Shift on the seat. He touched her cheek. Fingers sliding back to free her hair. It swirled around her.

Moira pulled off her shirt, set it aside. She leaned down to untie her shoes. Nearly brushing his crotch with her head as he didn't move an inch. He stared down her back as her hair slid forward. Down to where the pants gaped and gave him a glimpse of her lavender panties. He stared at her breasts as they were pushed up, pushed together, still trapped in the lavender bra. Her hair sliding deliciously down to them, strands curling along her nipples poking the sheer, lavender fabric.

She removed her shoes. Left on her socks. She sat, stood. Awkwardly removed her pants as he still hadn't moved. His gaze fixated on her crotch now. Seeing the lavender panties. The sheer material leaving little to the imagination. They were becoming translucent with her dampness. He slowly smiled. Moira gulped at his predatory gaze. Finally he stepped aside. Watched her move past him, out of the Jumper. Eyes glued to her shapely rear as it peeked out of the low panties, luring him. Her hair swinging across her bare back as she flung it behind her.

Moira hugged herself. Felt cold, embarrassed. Ridiculous standing at the bottom of the ocean in nothing but her underwear. "John? John, it's cold!" she complained. Almost afraid to move. "And for the record that turtle is a _Chelonia mydas, _a green turtle, although I think I saw a _Caretta caretta, _a Loggerhead turtle earlier, but not the _Eretmochelys imbricata,_ or hawksbill turtle which has the distinct markings...I'm no herpetologist but I oh!"

Suddenly he was there, his arms around her. Yanking her body against his. "Fuck that science talk is hot," he teased into her ear. Voice gruff. "Don't you worry, baby, I will warm you." She squirmed, feeling his very naked, very aroused body. His chest hair tickling her bare back. His erection poking her rear. He kissed her throat. Nibbling. Nuzzling as his hands slid up to cup her breasts. To tease the already hard nipples. Gently squeezing until she gasped, murmured. Shifted against him.

His mouth nibbled her earlobe, gently tugging, sucking. She gasped again, catching his wrists as he caressed, stroked her breasts. She wiggled her rear against his cock. He licked behind her earlobe, knowing it would drive her wild. She whimpered, gasped. He kissed down her throat, down her collarbone. Hands sliding down, down to her crotch. Long fingers playing along the panties now, stroking. Rubbing. Knuckles scraping the cleft, seeking entrance. Feeling her dampness, her heat. He made a low, male sound that caused a shiver along her body.

"John, oh John!" she stammered, breathless as she flooded, squirming at his persistent wooing. He freed her. Spun her round to face him. Kissed her hard. Mouth devouring hers. Tongue thrusting into her mouth as he shoved her body along his. His hands slid across her back to unhook the bra. Then down, down to grab her rear. To squeeze and squeeze until she murmured, squirmed, caught between his probing hands and his hard cock.

John moved to his knees, kissing down her breasts, yanking the bra off her. Kissing her waist as he grabbed the panties and yanked them down, off as she stepped out of them. He moved between her legs, shoving them apart. Kissing up her thigh. Moira stumbled, moving but he grabbed her rear, held her in place as he sloppily made his way up to her mound. Delved.

Moira tensed, moaning. Hands on his shoulders, clutching as she whimpered. Inarticulate as she melted under his sensual attack. She cried out, trembling as he searched, sucked. Giving her that most intimate of kisses. Hands squeezing her rear and sliding under to probe. Moira gasped, arched, wanted to fall, to cry, to beg and plead as the pleasure escalated, escalated. As she flooded, helpless. Fingers digging into his bare shoulders as he nibbled, gently, so gently bit suddenly. Moira cried out in a breathless sob.

"John! John, please, oh God, oh God! John!"

He freed her, pulled her down to the ground. Shoving her onto her back and slid onto her. Kissing her breasts now, nibbling to make her arch, squirm. Cock sliding along her cleft now, so close. So close he thought he'd come before he was even inside her.

"I want you loud, Moira. Loud. Exuberant. Give me all of it, Moira. All of it, or I'll just take it!" He shoved her thighs wide. Moira pulled him closer, kissing up his throat. Circled his ear. Bit. Bit harder to make him groan. "Fuck oh fuck!" he growled., sliding back down.

"John! John, John, no, no, you–"

"Hell yes," he snapped. Kissing her thigh again, forcing himself to wait. He nibbled up her skin. Sucking at her again, harder now. Relentless. Seeking, searching. Finding and delving deeply. Nibbling and gently biting. Moira cried out, almost sitting up as the pleasure began to pulse, as the climax shuddered, suspended as he paused. She was a writhing body under his.

"John! John, oh God! God! John! John, please, John!" she cried, voice rising into stuttering need, surprise, breathless desire. He freed her. Slid up to suck at her breasts again. In control but about to burst. His cock an engorged throbbing that he could no longer deny. He smiled.

"Fuck, you are sweet! I can't get enough of it, Moy. I've developed quite a taste for your sweet, sweet pussy," he growled, eyes moving to hers as he slowly, so slowly slid into her at last.

Moira frowned at his words but cried out again, whimpering as he filled her. Excruciatingly slowly. So big and hard she writhed, knees bending to take all of him into her. He thrust hard, deep. Groaning with relief, lust. She cried out again as the pleasure crested, crested.

He paused. "I don't know if it's the taste of your sweetness, or that fucking smell that drives me wild," he intoned low, kissing her throat. He began a steady rhythm. Groaned as she clenched hard. Kissing him, biting his lower lip. Nails running up his back. Down his back to his clenching rear. "Fuck!" he growled, thrusting harder, faster. "Fuck, fuck that is good! Harder, baby! I want all of it! All!" he ordered. Groaning loudly, grunting. Swearing profusely as he rocked her. Coming with a series of shuddering spasms as he drove her into the ground.

Moira cried out loudly, her oh John litany escalating into an astonished moan and whimpers as she came again. The orgasm slamming her so hard she sat, grabbing and clutching as him. He shoved her onto her back. He couldn't or wouldn't stop, pounding into her. The thrusts deeper and harder, faster. She thought she'd split apart when at last he slowed, spurted, jerking violently inside of her. Fell upon her heavily with a moan.

Breathing heavily, heart hammering, pleasure flooding he smiled. Satisfied. Engulfed by relief, release he licked his lips. "Fuck! Fuck that was good! Perfect! So fucking sweet I could die, baby. That fucking sweetness of yours! Men would kill to possess it. Shit, I have killed to possess it. To be the only one tasting that and taking that."

Moira was catching her breath, heart racing as she was sprawled under him. Astonished at his vitality, his sheer energy. She stroked his back, his hair as he rested on her. Lifted to slide out of her only to fall upon her again. "Um...John? Sweetie...are you..."

"Ssh, baby doll. No talking yet," he advised. Enjoying the orgasm's slow fade from his body. The feel of her under him. Naked bodies sticky, sweaty.

"Baby doll?" she wondered. "John, what is–"

"Ssh!" He lifted, kissed her lips.

Moira waited. Waited. Waited. Finally moved a little under him. "John? John, sweetie, you–"

"Ssh." He kissed her again, moving on her. Smiled smugly as her brown eyes widened, feeling him getting stiff again. "Yeah," he confirmed. "We are not even close to being finished, baby. Not until I've sucked and fucked you dry. Taken all I want from you and that sweetness."

"John? What the hell is–"

"Sex, baby doll. Look it up. No. I'll show you." He kissed her. A long, languorous kiss that made her melt. Abruptly he entered her again. Grunted as she clenched, pushing at him.

"John! You can't possibly–"

"Ah fuck, baby, I can. That is so sweet. Hold on, Moy. So fucking ready still...delicious! My Moira. Mine!"

He nearly drove her into the sand this time, as if he could penetrate the shielding. Moira clung to him, wondering what had happened, what he was deflecting so deeply before she was swept away by the passion, the pleasure. Tides of sexual bliss making her clutch and cry out, making her flood and writhe like an animal under him. The climax rendered her speechless, helpless.

John kept thrusting, grunting now. Harder and faster until he stuttered, swore loudly. Arching and driving as he came again. Violently shuddering, collapsing upon her again. Pleasure waves after waves on him, in her. He relaxed, exhausted and replete. "Moira." He wondered what her reaction would be. "Moy? Moy, I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, sliding out of her. He rolled onto his back, wiped his sweaty brow. "Fuck that was wonderful."

"No, you didn't hurt me,"she said. Closing her legs at last. She rolled towards him, rolled onto her stomach, feeling vulnerable. Exposed and uncomfortable. A slight tenderness belied her words but she kept silent. She stared at him, wondering if he was ever like this with his first wife Nancy, or with his lots some women. So infuriatingly closed off but deflecting through incredibly passionate sex. Loving but crude.

"No," he said, meeting her gaze. Could see her speculation as it shone in her thoughtful expression.

"What?"

"I know that look. No. I'm only like this with you, Moy. This lustful. This rough and crude."

She frowned. "Oh. Well, that's just great, John. Thanks."

"Because I trust you."


	5. Chapter 5

Artificial Selection5

"What? What the hell was that, John?"she flared, hitting his arm. Tears sparkled in her eyes. "Fuck you, John! Why can't you just tell me the problem? Why do you have to do it this way? Why do you have to–"

"You enjoyed it as much as I did, baby, so don't pretend otherwise," he retorted. He tried to pull her into his arms but she hit him again, furious.

"I never said I didn't! It's too intense, damn you! And what was all that? All that, that horrible talk, all that taking, all that, that–" she stammered.

"I don't know! I just need it, Moy, I need it!" He pulled her against him, held her as she hit him. Then snuggled, upset. "I trust you, Moira. To love me even when you see the real me. As much as I can fuck this up between us I know you'll love me anyway. Unless I'm wrong and you've had enough. And I like to get you all hot and flustered. It ramps up the sex quite nicely."

"You bastard!" She shoved, hit his chest. "I hate you! I hate the things you–"

He kissed her, grabbing her arms top in them on either side of her head as he moved her onto her back. Moved over her, onto her now. "So, baby...have I fucked it up enough that you'll leave me? Take our son and leave me?"

"Is that what you want?" she retorted, glaring at him.

"What if I said yes?" he challenged. She squirmed under him, half-heartedly struggling.

His seriousness threw her. She stared a moment. "I...I wouldn't believe you."

He smiled. "Good answer, baby." He kissed her but she shoved free of him. Scrambled to sit and grabbed her underwear. Pulled it on hastily. "God I hate it when you are like this! Why can't you just fucking tell me the problem?"

"Instead of just fucking?" he asked, watching her as he rolled onto his side.

"Shut up!" He laughed. She glared at him. "Seriously, John, why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know why. Honestly, I don't," he added to her disbelief. "It's easier this way. And far, far more pleasant."

"Bullshit, John!" She stood, strode into the Jumper.

John sighed, smiled. "Hey, baby! Get that pert little ass back here! I want it, Moy! I want it!" he taunted, unable to help himself. Fuck." He stood, strolled into the Jumper.

Moira had pulled on her shirt. Had her pants in her hand as she leaned over the stroller to soothe the baby. She gasped, feeling John's hand on her rear, squeezing. She whirled. "Damn it, John!"

He kissed her, pulling her into his arms. "Again, baby. Full fucking throttle on that pert little ass."

"No." She pushed him. "What the hell is wrong with you, John? Fucking me won't erase whatever is bothering you!"

He smiled. "No," he agreed. "But it will sure as hell distract me from it. You're so fucking beautiful when you are pissed, Moy. And half-naked...so ripe."

"Shut up! Get your damn clothes on and fly us back to Atlantis!" She turned back to the baby. "It's all right, Johnny. He's starting to fuss, John! He's hungry! John!" She turned back. His gaze had been on her rear, now on her crotch. She sighed. Lifted his chin up to make him meet her gaze. She kissed him. "John, please. We need to get back to Atlantis. For Johnny. Okay? We can discuss all of this once he's fed. John, please."

"I'd rather just fuck you again."

"Fine! Just take us home first. Your son, colonel!" She moved past him, pulled on her pants. Blinked back tears.

John sighed. Glanced at his son as he pulled on his clothes. "Sorry, Moy. I just...I just had to...I..fuck it!" He moved to the back, shut the hatch. Opened the panel and retracted the shield. Moira sat in the co-pilot's seat, stroller close as she tried to soothe the fussing baby. John slid into the pilot's seat, eyed his son. "Is he–"

"No, he needs his bottle, John!"

"Okay, Moy, okay! We're going."

As soon as the Jumper landed Moira was on her feet. She wheeled the baby to the hatch, opened it. "Moira!" John called over his shoulder, powering down the ship. She ignored him, wheeling the petulant baby out of the ship, across the Jumper bay.

"Hold on, Johnny," she soothed, rolling him faster as she strode to the physics lab. "Rodney!"

Rodney jumped, looking up in annoyance at the demand, a caustic insult on his lips but seeing Moira with the baby he caught himself. "Yes?" he sourly asked.

"What the hell happened?"

"I'm sorry?"

"On that mission! On that planet! To John!"

The baby started to cry. Moira ignored him, stepping round the stroller as Rodney moved to his feet. "I...um...nothing."

"Nothing? Bullshit, Rodney! What happened? What happened to John?"

"Nothing! Unless you mean all of those women throwing themselves at him for–"

"No! I don't give a damn about the women! What happened after that?"

"Moira!" John snapped. He had easily guessed her destination.

She whirled, glaring at him. "What? What happened there, John! If you won't tell me then Rodney will!"

"Nothing!" Rodney repeated, mystified. "I swear! We were hardly apart! We escaped those women, and the angry villagers and the Wraith! We had to hide in the caves and then we came back home! I don't know what his problem is!"

"Moira!" John nearly shouted over his now wailing son.

The baby cried, little hands slapping the life signs detector. A beam of light flew from it, projecting a three-dimensional image of the city and it's inhabitants. The infant hiccuped, staring in surprise just like the three adults.

John moved first. Took the device from the infant. The image instantly faded. The baby resumed crying. John turned the device over in his hands. "Um, um, he must have hit a switch or something here...those little fingers can find things ours can't on this thing," he fumbled, glancing at Moira.

Moira lifted the infant to her arms. "Ssh, ssh, darling, I'm sorry! Easy, now, we'll go get lunch, okay?" She kissed him, gently bouncing the upset baby. "John." A look passed between them, a silent communication until she resumed the argument. "If you don't tell me I am going to that planet myself, colonel! Here we go, Johnny, hush." She carried the baby out of the room.

John watched them go. Turned to see Rodney staring after them as well. His thoughtful expression did not bode well. "Look, Rodney, about the detector thing, it was a–"

"It's him." Rodney met his friend's gaze. "It was him all along, wasn't it? Even when Moira was pregnant with him. It's been the kid all along. No wonder you were so damn determined to get hold of that bald man. And had to know about those with the double ATA gene. And what they became. What your son could become. Although naturally occurring it must still be a rare enough event, right? I mean even for the Ancients, to produce an twin gene like that. So what would someone with the double become? More advanced, obviously, since the bald guy could ascend at will. And able to operate systems we can't. Yet. Your kid could probably dial up Pleistocene Park all by himself, couldn't he? And that bio two lab...he could get it running again. Since it was him and not Moira, right? I wonder if there were more of them...well, there must have been, once. I'm sure you've already checked the records, right? And they've been expunged? Of course. The Ancients and their hubris...there must have been some kind of conflict, some kind of internecine conflict among them. Those too powerful to be trusted, perhaps? Think of the possibilities, John! Once your kid is older and learns about all of this."

John was silent, tensing. Protection for his son overriding every other emotion as he watched Rodney. The scientist's hands moving in the air as he spoke, thinking it through, dissecting every concern, every thought that had already occurred to John. Every action. "Rodney," he finally interjected, "you need to–"

"Yes, of course, John, I won't tell anyone. We have to keep this close. No one else can know," Rodney agreed. "Until we understand all of the implications."

John relaxed a little. "Yeah. Thanks, Rodney."

"What has Carson said?"

"Not much. Frankly he has no idea what it means."

"And the kid's okay?"

"Fine. Healthy. Normal."

"Good, good." Rodney began to pace, hands moving again. "So we've got a potentially more potent ATA carrier now in the city. We could access new systems, or more things in the systems we already have operating. I knew your own gene was strong but damn, John! You and your damn sperm."

John smiled. "Yeah, that's what Moira said. Hers is strong too, you know."

"Obviously, but the real mystery is why your son inherited both instead of just one. Like an extra, as it were. This is really Carson's field. I am more interested in the practical applications of the...John, he could probably fly the city from the Chair if it ever came down to that!"

"Easy, Rodney, we are nowhere near that yet," John cautioned, seeing the gleam in his friend's eyes.

"But think of it, John! I mean once he has the mental capacity for...he needs to be under my tutelage ASAP! I have the best understanding of the Ancient tech and together we could get this entire city up and running! All systems! Maybe even eliminate the desperate need for a ZPM! Maybe even extend the Stargates to provide a quicker route to and from Earth! Maybe–"

"Whoa, whoa, there!" John stated, raising his hand. "Slow down, Einstein! He's only a baby yet! Okay? And he's not your experiment. Rodney...this stays between us, right?"

"What? Of course, John. Don't worry. Now..." Rodney moved to a table, "I wonder if he could activate the drones yet? Purely as a test run, nothing more. If we're not careful he could override the systems, much like Moira did when she was upset or startled. I mean we can't do much until he has more cognitive skills so John? John?" Rodney shook his head as John had left, shaking his head. He smiled. "My little nephew is going to win me a Nobel, I just know it!"


	6. Chapter 6

Artificial Selection6

John entered the nursery, dropped the stroller against the wall. Moira was sitting on the bed, feeding the baby his bottle as she gently rocked him. She glanced at her husband, then focused on the baby as he frowned, staring up at her. "It's all right, Johnny. Daddy is just pissy still. You'd think after all that sex he'd be in a better mood, wouldn't you?"

"You'd think, huh? Hilarious, Moy. Fucking hilarious." He stared at his son.

"Did you tell him?"

"No. He guessed. I forget sometimes how smart he is. Under all that blustering and annoyance and flippancy and bitterness. He won't tell anyone about Johnny."

"Okay."

"That's it? Okay?"

"Yes." She met his gaze. "We can trust Rodney, just as we can trust Carson. Are you ready to talk now, John?"

"No. Like I said, I would just rather fuck you again, baby."

She frowned. "Then I guess Johnny and I will be going on a mission, colonel. Since you won't tell me what the hell happened to you."

"Damn it, Moy, like hell you're going anywhere! I don't want to talk about it, okay!" At his tone the baby freed the nipple, began to fuss, spit up a little. "Shit, sorry. Sorry, Moy, I..." He sighed, abruptly left.

Moira felt a wave of tears, pushed them aside. "It's all right, Johnny, hush..." she soothed, kissing the infant. She eased him to sit, patted his back. "Here we go, darling." She knew she had to wait for John, knew she couldn't force an explanation out of him. "I'll find out what's wrong with daddy. Don't you worry." She stood, pacing. Burping the baby as he clung to her. "Easy, darling. Everything's fine now. You see?"

"Mama, mama goo!"

"Yes, darling. Here we go." She sat on the bed, playing with the baby.

John downed the beer. Tossed the bottle aside and stared out at the ocean beneath him. He was on the balcony. The waters roiled, a blue-green expanse extending to the horizon. He sighed. Scowled, hearing footsteps. Tensing at the intrusion. The sunlight glinted on his gold wedding band and he stared at it a moment.

"Want to talk about it?"

John frowned. Kept his gaze on the waters, the horizon. "No."

"No." Elizabeth sighed, stood next to him. Eyed him. Eyed the waves. "From what the others have told me the mission was successful. Mostly. I mean we secured a ZPM. The Wraith culled some, but not all, thanks to you and your team. We've run into hostility before, on several worlds. Blaming us for awakening the Wraith. For even bringing them to their world. Is that was this is about, John? Everyone is concerned."

"Great," he grumbled. "And no. Not that. It's nothing, okay?"

"Johnny's okay, isn't he? And Moira, is she–"

"Fine. They're both fine, and will continue to be fine. Excuse me!" He stepped past her, evading any more interrogation, concern.

"Mama! Mama goo!" the baby cried, giggling.

Moira smiled. "Yes, darling!" She kissed him. Nibbled his ear to make him giggle in delight, to coo. She laughed softly, smiled. "You are so like your father it is scary."

"Is that good or bad?"

Moira looked over to the threshold. John stood there, holding a bouquet of pink roses. She lifted her son, kissed him. Carried him to the crib. "There, darling. Go to sleep now. There's a good boy." She turned on the mobile. Music played. The various aircraft turned slowly. She stepped to John. Took the flowers. Pushed past him to toss the roses carelessly onto the table in their room. "Roses won't do it this time, John."

He silently swore. Followed her. "Moira, I never meant to–"

"Here!" She whirled, shoved a beer towards him. He took it, startled. "If you won't talk to me there's not much point to any of this, is there?" He stared, half expecting her to take off her wedding ring, throw it at him. March out with the baby. But she glared at him. "I guess Evan was right. I'm just your fuck buddy after all,"she deliberately provoked, knowing he loathed that term for her.

He glowered. "Don't talk like that."

"Why not? You do. You talk to me like that. Like you don't love me, like I'm just your fuck buddy. Just some piece of ass to fuck and go, as you charmingly put it once."

He moved to sit on the bed. "You know that's ridiculous." He opened the beer. Drank.

"Do I? I don't know any more, John. Are you going to talk to me? Or just fuck me again so you can feel in complete control?"

"Sit that pert little ass down!"

Moira pulled out a chair instead of joining him on the bed. Sat across from him. Waited.

John took another long sip of the beer. Reluctant, yet wanting to tell her. Trusting her, yet embarrassed. "I'm not..." He paused, sipped. Stared round the room. Looking at everything but her. "I'm not John Sheppard. The John Sheppard I once was."

Moira waited, but he kept silent. She inwardly sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon. "What do you mean?" she asked at last. Voice gentle.

"Just what I said." He drank, eyes on her now. Challenging. Almost daring her to continue.

She did. "Because of me. John junior." He nodded. "Because you are a husband now. A father. You have more responsibility. Your priorities have changed." He nodded again. "But it was like that before, John. What happened? The villagers? The women? The culling? The caves?" She saw his reaction, the slightest flinch. "Swee..." she caught herself. "John, what happened in the caves?"

"The village," he said at last, as if he needed her to guess it, find it, and then ease it out of him like some weird contagion. He drank more beer. "It was funny, really. Flattering. Not like it hasn't happened many, many times before, but never so openly. All those women, beautiful women, Moira, all over me. Offering me their most intimate welcoming ceremony. I'm talking sexual intercourse, Moy. Sex with beautiful women. Just sex with no ties, no meaning except to forge an alliance. Wouldn't have meant a damn thing. The old John Sheppard probably would have gone for it. What the hell? It's not like he's offered that much sex every day with no ties and no relationship crap. Nothing but physical pleasure."

"And you?" she asked mildly.

"Me? No. I'll admit, the thought did cross my mind. Briefly, very briefly," he hastily added to her stare. "But no. I have a wife who loves me and trusts me and gives me everything I need and want and desire. I value, no. I treasure her love and trust above everything else. Sometimes all that love she has for me is almost a burden, but I know I never want to lose it. Would die without it now. Without her. Only her."

"The village?" she prompted as he drank. Mollified by his words. Moved.

"My team extricated me finally after their hilarity. We moved on to the next village. Those people were not as welcoming. Were downright hostile. They had just endured a Wraith culling and were suspicious of anyone coming through the 'Gate. It was such a weird contrast. And then...then the Wraith came. Second wave of culling. The villagers blamed us, wanted to throw us to the wolves, so to speak. But in the end we became allies. Running together to the caves. To hide." He eyed the bottle uneasily. Guiltily.

Moira heard the disdain in his voice. The self-loathing. "And the old John Sheppard wouldn't have done that."

"No. Hell no!" he flared. "He would have been out there! Rounding up the stragglers, killing as many Wraith as he could even though we were outnumbered, outgunned! It was a fucking Hive ship! I swear I was going to do just that! We were going to take out as many as we could, we saved as many as we could but we could have done more! I could have done more! I could have..." He sourly eyed the bottle. Drank.

"What happened in the caves, John?" she asked gently. Touched his knee.

He drained the last of the beer. Licked his lips. Eyed the bottle in his hands. "The caves. Something innocuous. There were corpses there. Bodies. Caved in, trapped after the last month's culling. All died there. There, there was a woman. I almost fell over her corpse. A woman with long brown hair. Holding a, a baby. Both had died in the caves. I guess it's better than being culled, I don't know. I couldn't understand how the husband wouldn't have gotten them out. I would have. I would have dug until my hands bled to get them out of there."

"John..."she said. Moved to sit next to him. He glanced at her, saw her eyes full of love, sympathy. Worry.

He eyed the bottle. "It...it hit me, Moy."

She waited, but he fell silent again. Brooding. She touched his arm, gently caressed. "What hit you, John?"

"I couldn't stop thinking."

"Thinking of what?"

"Thinking of you. John junior. I...I shouldn't have been there, Moy! I should be here, with you and Johnny. What am I doing? What am I missing as he grows up? I should be here protecting you, defending you, caring for you, giving you everything you need, everything he needs. Not risking my life out there. If something happened to me what would happen to you two? Who would protect you? Defend you? Provide for you? A son needs his father, and you, Moy, you need me."

"Yes, John," she agreed. Kissed him softly. Caught his hands to take the bottle, set it aside.

"Who would dig you out of that cave, Moira? Who would never, never give up until you and Johnny were safe, secure? Only me. You need me here, Moira!"

"I do, John. We need you here," she agreed. "But we also need you out there."

"What?" he asked, meeting her gaze.

"To protect us, defend us. Protecting yourself, John, because we need you, love you, want you. I would like nothing better than to keep you here with us, but I can't. Everyone needs you out there. As long as you are extra careful, not reckless. We need you out there too, to keep us safe here. I wish you never had to go through the 'Gate again, but I know that you do. That you will. It's who you are. It's what you are. All that I ask is that you are extra careful, extra cautious, colonel. Because it's not just you out there anymore. It's us too. We're with you, John, always. To make certain you come back to us safely."

John stared at her as she looked down. Freed his hands to stand. She moved to the table as a wave of tears hit her. Knowing it was what he needed to hear, had to hear from her. "Thank you for the roses," she said, voice quavering with emotion. She swallowed. Stilled it. "You are still John Sheppard. Just a wiser, better one, I think."

John felt a wave of love for her. It was almost overwhelming. Relieved she understood, accepted. Make him think it through all the way. He stood. Moved to stand behind her. Slid his arms around her, drawing her against him. He kissed her throat. "Moira," he said into her ear. "Thank you. I'm not him, you know. James. I'll always come back to you. Even though you feel like you've sent me into danger I'll always come back to you."

She caught his hands at her waist. "John, please..." she whispered, stunned at his perception. The memory of her murdered fiancee in her mind.

"I'm just saying, Moira. Don't you feel like you're causing harm to me. You're not. I'm trained for this. I'll be fine. I love you, Moira."

She turned to him. Brown eyes wet. "John." She hugged him. He kissed her brow. Held her close. "How–"

"I know." He moved her back gently to kiss her lips. Kept kissing her. Soft, slow kisses. Tongue sliding slowly into her mouth, almost shyly. Hands gliding along her clothes.

Everything melted away under those kisses. Under his caresses. His fingers in her hair, stroking and tangling as his mouth merged with hers over and over. He guided her towards the bed, step after step. Body maneuvering hers. She murmured, hands sliding up his chest.

"Moira," he said, breaking a kiss to glide his lips along her throat. "My Moira," he breathed heavily against her skin.

"John, oh John," she sighed dreamily, lost in his brilliant green eyes. The soft fullness of his lips. The teasing sensuality of his tongue. The low, possessive rasp of his voice. The feel of his fingers stroking her hair, her back. The feel of his long, lean body bumping along hers. "Oh John, you, you...wait!"

Her tone froze him. He stared as her hands slid off him. Disentangling her body from his. Seemingly her affection as she touched his chest. A gentle pressure that held him in place. "Moy?" he asked.

"What are you planning to do?"


	7. Chapter 7

Artificial Selection7

John slowly smiled. The kind of smile that sent women to their knees. The kind of smile that made them tighten, made them wet. The kind that made them squirm with desire. Part invitation, part seduction. He tilted his head slightly. "Hmm...isn't that obvious, doctor? Are you sure you're a biologist? Sometimes I really do wonder."

Moira smiled, but she frowned. "No, it's not obvious. Not any more, John." A trace of suspicion, of hurt in her eyes. "So?"

He opened his mouth to reply, closed it. Realizing what she meant. What she needed. Suppressing any sarcasm. "I was planning on making love with you, baby."

"Really, John? You're not going to just fuck me? Take what you want from me?"

"No. At least...not the first time." He smirked. She glared, shoved past him. "Moira! Oh come on, baby! Sweet and slow, okay? Followed by, let's see...wall? No, Sheppard's delight. I want you splayed on the table like a fucking–"

"Shut up! Fucking soldier!" she snapped, crossing into the nursery as the baby began to fuss.

John laughed. "You're about to, baby, come back here! Moira! Moira Sheppard!"

Moira ignored him, moving to the crib. The baby was sitting, pouting. Fussing with teary eyes. "Here, darling."

"Mama, mama, mama!" he cried, little arms reaching.

She lifted him, kissed him. "There now, darling. Need a change? Okay, here we go. Ssh." She changed the baby's diaper, soothing him. Cleaning him. Dressing him again in his little olive t-shirt and jeans. "There now, Johnny. All better now." She lifted him, kissed his rosy cheek. He prattled, smiling at her. "Let's go see Uncle Carson, all right? I bet he has a toy for you, doesn't he? He always has a toy for you."

"Why?"

She turned. John was standing in the doorway, watching her. Expression unreadable as he folded his arms across his chest. "Why? Because Carson loves him and always gives him a toy to distract him from the exam and–"

"No! Why does he need to see Carson?" John clarified.

"I just want to see if he's all right. After that, um, demonstration."

"The gene. Oh. Okay, let's go." He fell into step with her as they exited their room.

"Gaga! Gaga goo!" the baby reached for him, grinning.

"Dada. Get it right, junior," he fondly admonished. "Hey, Moy, just so you know, sex is not cancelled. Just tabled for later. Literally, baby."

"Shut up, John. Here we go, darling."

The baby cooed, little arms and legs moving as he lay prone on the table. Seemingly entranced by the green beam of light that was sweeping over him. Moira and John stood on either side of the table, watching the baby. He grinned, reaching up for the light. Began to fuss as the beam disappeared. Normal lighting returned.

"Here you go, wee Sheppard. Such a brave, big boy you are!" Carson handed the baby a soft, rubber turtle. The baby chortled, taking it clumsily. Began to suck on it.

Moira smiled, lifting the baby to her arms. "Thank you, Carson."

"Well?" John asked, moving next to his wife as she followed Carson to the data screen.

"He's perfectly fine. Healthy. Growing like a weed, which is only to be expected. No harm done from his little, um, exertion."

"Can you see the double in his profile?" Moira whispered, bouncing the baby gently.

"No, not in this. I would need a more detailed analysis of his blood work," Carson replied. Met her concerned gaze. "I've been thinking about this. In reference to the Ancients and their population. Despite the scarcity of their records. The allele frequency."

"Natural or controlled?"

"Both, by mutation."

"A new protein?"

"Transcription."

"Whoa, whoa, not again!" John complained. "Full sentences please, all right? What's an allele again, doctors?"

Carson smiled. Guided them to the back where all three sat near a console. The baby was contentedly sucking on his new toy, secure on his mother's lap, her arms around him. Secure with his father next to her, that tall, reassuring presence that would allow no harm to come to him. Happy to be with the man in the white coat who always gave him something new. "An allele, colonel," he began, Scottish accent brisk, making the baby stare in wonder, "is a unique form of a single gene. The allele frequency is the proportion of all copies of a gene that is made up of a particular gene variant, the allele. The number of copies of a particular allele divided by the number of copies of all alleles at a genetic place in a population."

"I'm sorry I asked," John muttered, shaking his head. "The frequency in a population would be determined by the number of copies of a said gene in a said population?"

"Yes, colonel. Wow. I have to say, you grasped that rather quickly," Carson teased.

Moira smirked. "And he can walk and chew gum at the same time too." She snorted as John elbowed her.

"Hilarious. Oh, you too, junior?" he asked, as the baby was grinning at him. He tickled the infant, causing a giggle. "And these mutations?"

"Mutations can create new alleles," Moira explained. "Having new DNA sequences and they can produce new proteins with new properties. A stronger ATA, for example."

"Or a double," Carson agreed. "You can imagine how desirable that would be here."

"Yeah. Rodney was practically salivating with the possibilities," John noted.

"As you know, the ATA is a protein," Carson continued. "The gene is read by a cell in the DNA sequence, is copied into a very similar molecule called RNA in a process we call transcription. Controlled by other DNA sequences called promoters which show a cell where genes are and controls how they are copied. The RNA copy made from a gene is fed through a ribosome which translates the sequence into the correct sequence of amino acids and proteins in a protein chain."

"Wait, are you saying that Johnny's double is a copy, then? A copy of itself, or a copy of mine and of Moira's?"

"Good question, colonel, and one that I cannot answer at present. Each gene is unique, but each ATA will just read as an ATA, no matter where it comes from. I've isolated it enough to replicate it, and hence our successful gene therapy. But that only works fifty-percent of the time. In wee Sheppard's case, his double could be two copies co-existing. Not unheard of in other genes, but unusual, yes."

"Like a double chromosome," John remarked, glancing at his son. The baby was watching Carson, toy forgotten as the Scottish accent entranced him. "I've heard of that. But can't that be harmful? Could something go wrong with his development, having an extra ATA?"

"No. In Johnny's case, no. As far as I can tell it won't have any kind of effect upon his development. Physically or mentally. He's just more, um, gifted, let's say, then us in regards to the strength of his ATA."

"He's strong in the Force, then, got that," John agreed, relieved. He looked at Moira. "But?"

"What? Nothing. I was just thinking." She kissed the baby, eyed Carson. "About what you said earlier. How desirable this would be to the Ancients. The double. But it's a hit or miss thing, isn't it? A random genetic development like ours is. And even your therapy couldn't produce a double, could it?"

"No. Not even remotely possible."

"If it's so desirable why eradicate all mention of it, then?" John asked. "Baldy gave me the distinct impression that his kind were first worshiped, then reviled. Made war upon by their own kind. The question is why? Rodney suggested they became too powerful. Some sort of power struggle for the city, perhaps."

"That sounds plausible," Carson agreed, nodding. "But think how handy they would have been in the war with the Wraith. It doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't make sense to eliminate your best defense against an unstoppable foe," John agreed, frowning. "Unless...unless something went wrong. You remember that failsafe device? How it initially fought against us to control that planetary defense system? As if it had to defend itself in case of a traitor among the Ancients? But still a failsafe to save them and transport them to that sanctuary."

"Yes," Moira agreed. "I can hardly forget that." She winced at the memory. At her almost death saving John. At thinking he was gone, lost. The desperate escape from that planet only to find it was all an illusion created by the last working avatar to keep them there. She glanced at her wrist, at John's. Recalling the vicious cuts to awaken them from the mind control. She stared at the black wristband he still wore.

John touched her arm briefly, an acknowledgment. He turned to Carson. "We need to know what they expunged from the records."

"How? It's not like they had a back-up drive, did they? Rodney surely would have found it by now. John...what are you thinking?" Carson asked, seeing John's gaze move to his son.

"John?" Moira echoed. Cuddling the infant to her suddenly. "You can't."

John met her gaze. "Why not? You saw what he did with the life signs detector. If he can juice up the data base in the same way, specifically for any hidden records about the past I don't see why not."

"John! You're as bad as Rodney now! You can't use your own son to locate something that may not even exist!"

"And what if it does, Moira? We need that information, and I promise you, no harm will come to him."

"What do you have in mind, John? It's not like he can search the data base," Carson noted.

John considered. Eyed his son. The baby was sucking on the toy again. Staring at his father. "No. But I can. We can. And junior here can up the ante, so to speak."

"No." Moira stood, suddenly protective. "I won't let you do it, John."

"What? Oh, I see. It's all right if he plays with Ancient tech, but if I really need him to do something that could be beneficial for all of us you balk?"

"He's not a battery charger, John!"

John stood. "In this case he is, Moira. And as long as we're the ones guiding him there's no harm in it. Right, Carson?"

"He won't be harmed," the doctor agreed, looking from one to the other, "but I don't think he would be of much help at this–"

"He will, since I will be controlling the data flow. As will you, Moira. Let's go."

"I said no, John." She stepped away from him, headed out of the infirmary. The baby prattling over her shoulder.

John scowled, following. "Moira! Damn it, Moira, we need to do this!"

"I said no, John," she repeated, increasing her stride. But he easily kept up with her. Strode round and in front of her, effectively blocking her. "John!"

"Moira, we are doing this whether you agree or not." He took the infant from her.

"John, no! Give him back to me! John!"

"No. Here we go, junior, we have a new game to play." He carried the infant away from her.

Moira swore, rushed after him. "John! John, no! I said no, colonel! John! Give me back my baby! John! John!"

"He's my son too, Moira, and I will do what's best for him. I can't believe you are squeamish over this," he complained, entering a transporter. The baby prattled loudly in his arms.

Moira rushed after him, joined him. "I said no, John! We have no idea what could happen!"

"Or what we could find," he countered. Chose a destination. He exited, long strides taking him quickly down a corridor. Moira had to run to catch up to him, realizing where he was heading. To the room where the podium stood. A learning center where an avatar could be accessed. Giving lessons and data, and answering questions on a simple, interactive level. An attractive female image to instruct. John entered the room, ignoring his wife. Strode purposefully to the podium as the baby prattled, already reaching for the controls. Drawn inexplicably as John was drawn to the Ancient tech.

Moira rushed after him, determined. "John! John, stop right now! John, stop now or I swear we will never have sex again!"


	8. Chapter 8

Artificial Selection8

John paused. Turned to see his wife glaring at him. Hair a swirling tangle of brown tresses around her. Breasts slightly heaving from chasing him. Her angry expression making him want her. Want to tame her, take her. Erotic, salacious ideas came and went quickly. "Really?" He licked his lips. "You'd cut me off just to have your way?"

"No." She neared slowly. "I'd cut you off because it's the only way to get through to you, colonel. You and your damn cock. Sometimes all you think with is that damn thing."

He smiled. "Yeah. When it comes to your sweetness, baby, hell yeah. But this doesn't concern that. This is about our son, Moira. What we need to know. For his sake, and for ours. What do you think we'll find? What do you think will happen to him?"

"I don't know. Call it a woman's intuition, a mother's instinct, I just don't want him touching those controls, John. Please."

He held her gaze a moment. "Sorry, sweetheart." He turned, touched the panel. Lowered his son to do the same. "Here we go, junior. Make the pretty pictures for daddy now."

"Ga! Gaga goo!" the baby exclaimed, little hand grasping near his father's.

Moira gasped as the air filled with images. Too many as the avatar was speaking rapidly. As planets and stars revolved. She stepped next to John, ready to grab the infant from him.

"No, not that...not that...I need to back further. To the first ones...before the war...the ATA development...what are you hiding? What don't you want me to see, you bastards? The double, I need the double ATA gene, damn it," John was muttering, eyes closed as he concentrated, trying to force out the information past the streaming data. Feeling the odd, almost intimate connection between himself and the machine. The tendrils of power in his mind. Seeking. Searching. Directing as the baby prattled loudly, hands on the controls, squirming in his father's hold.

"John, John, enough!" Moira touched her husband's back, stepping up next to him. She touched the baby as he began to fuss, little hands trying to free the controls suddenly. But John's hand closed over the infant's now. "John, he doesn't like it!"

"Tough...keep your eyes on the readouts...fuck this is hard, you really should be doing this with all of your scientific blah blah blah...shit!"

"John!" Moira yanked his hand off the baby's as the baby exclaimed, started to cry. John's eyes flew open in alarm as the spark had passed through his body, an electrifying jolt as the power had increased wildly. Moira snatched the baby from him, stumbling off the podium, cuddling him close. "John!"

John stared at the mess of images hanging in the air. An alarm was ringing somewhere but he scarcely heard it, mesmerized by the moving pictures of an Ancient past. Fighting men and genetic codes dancing until the podium sparked again and a bright flash warned him. He leapt off the podium, grabbed wife and child and shoved them to the floor, shielding them with his own body as the sparks flew, flew, spitting until a solid bang plunged the room into darkness.

"Colonel Sheppard! Colonel Sheppard, copy! We've detected a massive energy surge on level three! Report! Report, sir! We've got a system-wide fluctuation!"

John lifted his head. The doors had slammed shut, isolating them. The podium was smoking. The stench of fried wiring and crystals permeated the warm air. All of the images were gone. Still dancing in John's mind, the confusion of pictures and words that made no sense to him. Jumbled, garbled in his brain. He lifted, moved to his knees. "Moira? Is Johnny–"

Moira sat, clutching the baby to her. He had quieted. She examined his little hands. "He's unhurt...just scared. You...you..."

"Sorry! I swear, I didn't think anything like that would happen! Moira, you have to believe me!"

He touched her but she drew away from him. Stood.

"John, John!" Rodney called, as the doors opened. He ran into the room, froze. "What the...is the kid okay?"

"He's fine, he–"

"No, he's not fine!" Moira flared. "I told you! I told you the interface would be too much! He's just a baby, John!"

"John, what the hell did you do?" Rodney asked, staring at Moira. The baby. The smoking podium.

"Nothing! He's unharmed, just startled, is all," John defended, as a surge of guilt assailed him. "We needed that information, damn it! How was I to know the fucking system would resist and set a self-destruct?"

"Because I told you that there must have been some failsafe instigated against the doubles since all data was eradicated!" Rodney stated. "And he could override the systems if agitated!"

"You never told me that!" John flared.

"I did but you left in the middle of a conversation like you always do!"

"Moira, I–" John attempted, moving towards her.

"No! I told you, John! Damn it, I told you! Leave it be! Just leave it be, damn it!" she shouted, as the baby began to cry again. Upset at the raised voices. "Now see what you've done?"

"Me? You're the one who's shouting, Moira, not me! What? You honestly think I would ever place him knowingly in harm's way? For fuck sake's, Moira, he's my son!"

"And you're John Sheppard, the man of the hour, aren't you? I think you want to be rid of us so you can be that man again!"

"What? Whoa, slow down," Rodney said, looking from one to the other. Astonished at the vehemence of the argument.

"Yeah, maybe I do, as a matter of fact! My life was sure as hell a lot easier before I married you and gave you that kid! He's a freak, Moira! He's got some double allele thingy that could implode the whole city if we're not careful!"

"How can you say that about your son?" she exclaimed. "Fine! I f that's what you want get the hell out of our lives then! We don't need you!"

"Fine! I don't need either of you either!"

"John, Moira, what the hell?" Rodney asked, shaking his head. "The kid's okay, isn't he? Just calm down and–"

"Shut up, Rodney!" John and Moira said at the same time. The baby paused in his crying. Hiccuped.

"Can you fix it?" John asked, glancing at the podium.

"What? Seriously? You're asking me that right now?" Rodney asked, staring.

"Yes, I am," John said, but he was heading for Moira again. "We need that thing working. Moira, take him to Carson to be sure. I'll join you there or in our rooms. Go."

Moira glared at him. But whirled, carrying the upset infant out of the room.

John sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. Turned to see Rodney staring. "What? Can you fix that damn thing?"

"What just happened? You're on the verge of divorce and you want me to fix this?"

"We're not getting a divorce, don't be stupid."

"Stupid? Stupid? You have a shouting match with your wife, make your kid cry, implode the podium of knowledge and I'm the stupid one?"

"The podium of...huh? That's not it's name! Now fix that damn thing, would you?" Before Rodney could reply John stomped out of the room.

Moira sat in the nursery. Fussing over the baby. Making sure his hands were unharmed. Unmarked. Soothing him with a bottle. With kisses and soft words. Making him giggle as she tickled him. Played with him, a gentle game involving his bare feet. His tiny toes. Satisfied he was fine, unharmed and happy again she carried him into her room. Set him in the playpen with his toys and his blanket. She sat, watching him crawl around, exploring. Babbling softly.

She eyed the pink roses. Set them into a vase. She pulled off her wedding ring. Held up the gold band, staring at it. The diamonds encrusted on it. The Irish words engraved on it.

John paused as he entered the room. Swallowed. Glanced at his son happily playing. Back to his wife. "Um, Moy? That bad? I mean...what are you going to do with that ring, exactly?"

She met his gaze. "What do you want me to do, John? Give it back to you? Set it here on the table, take my son and leave you? Is that what you want?"

"No. Actually. Is that what you want?"

"No." She sighed, slipped the ring back onto her finger, to his relief. "Yes, he's fine," she answered before he could ask. "Not even a mark on him. Scared, like you said."

"I swear I didn't think anything like that was going to happen," John stated, moving to stand by the playpen. He looked at the baby.

"I know."

"I mean, when he activated the life signs detector like that nothing even remotely like that happened. I mean...oh. You know?"

"Of course, John. You would never harm your son."

"I never would, Moira. So...um...us?"

"We're fine, John."

"Okay." He sighed. Moved to sit next to her at the table. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, John." She eyed the baby. He was watching them. "At least Rodney won't try to use him in any ZPM experiments after that."

"True." He touched her hand, drawing her gaze to him. "Moy...are we okay? I mean...are we? Sweetheart?"

She met his gaze, saw his concern. Worry. "Yes, John. Of course." She shrugged, pulling away slightly. Her actions belying her words.

"Fuck it. No, we're not. Not yet, anyway." He glanced at the playpen. The baby was crawling around again. Dragging a toy, prattling. He stood. Decided. "I've got stuff to do."

Moira watched him go. Let him go. Without a word.


	9. Chapter 9

Artificial Selection9

John fired. Fired again. The P90 felt solid in his hands. Secure. Something he could control, contain, unlike emotions, reactions. Bullets flying, zipping through the air. Creating a shape on a target. He grunted, stared. Satisfied. Looked around but he was quite alone. He lowered the weapon. Hit the switch which brought the tattered paper to him. He tore it off the grid, quickly folded it, pocketed it hearing footsteps. Turned quickly to see Ronon approaching. "Hey."

Ronon nodded. Gazed upon the array of weapons on offer. Selected one after a moment. "It doesn't work."

"Huh? You haven't even fired it yet," John noted, eying the handgun.

Ronon flipped it. Aimed. Hit the target dead-on. A single shot to the head of the silhouette. Obliterating most of it. "Ordering."

"Huh? Ordering what, pizza?" John asked, perplexed.

Ronon met his gaze. "Ordering. They don't respond well to that. You should know by now."

"Who? The men? Of course they do, they've been trained to...oh shit. You mean Moira, don't you? Crap. Does the whole city know our business now?" he griped.

Ronon shrugged. "It's the child. Changes everything, doesn't it? You. Her. The team. The city. Every mission. Every decision. Action."

"Gee, thanks for that. Giving a pep talk is not your strong suit. Nor is giving advice. Is that what you are trying to do? Give me advice? About my marriage? About my wife? I didn't ask you, did I? I can handle this. In my own way. Moira and I will be fine, we always are fine. And my son...he's fine too. No, he's better than fine. He's very fine. Very. Nothing happened to him. Nothing will ever happen to him, and despite what Moira may think I won't allow it to happen to him. I can't believe she would even question my concern over him, my care, how I feel about my own son! Sure, I was impetuous. Sure, I was stupid, even, but I had his best interests at heart. And the rest, well, she's more than used to that by now. All of that, and God forbid if I ever hurt her. I never would! And she knows that, despite all the melodrama over it. So..."

Ronon smiled. Clapped his friend on the back, almost knocking him over. "Like I said. Ordering. Doesn't work with women, John. Never will."

John sighed, swore at the Satedan's mirth. As he left he loaded the P90, fired again, this time without a pattern in mind.

Moira sighed. Watched as Katie Brown played with the baby. The infant was chortling, enjoying the attention from the auburn-haired woman. "Sometimes I think he regrets this. All of this. But I know he really doesn't. I know it's almost too much for him sometimes. It's almost too much for me sometimes. We knew it wasn't going to be easy but still...and then he clams up. Won't say a damn word about what is really bothering him, oh no, not John Sheppard, not the strong, alpha male. He bottles it up and instead insists, no, demands! He demands we have sex. Incredibly passionate sex until he's taken all that wants and more and then...well..." Moira sighed, saw her friend's amusement. "Okay, I'm not really complaining about that, except what he says, the way he...anyway...with the baby now things are more complicated."

Katie smiled, glancing at her friend. "You'll adjust. You both will. It will take time. For all three of you. Rodney's convinced you are getting a divorce again."

Moira made a scoffing sound. "As if. Hell, no, John doesn't get out of this that easily!" The women laughed. "No, Rodney always jumps to the wrong conclusion when we argue."

"I know. It's so cute, too. He's very concerned and serious about it. I try to tell him it will blow over and you two will be fine, but no, he's convinced things are over and somehow, in every scenario he ends up with the kid. I have no idea why!"

Moira laughed. "Because that is his worst nightmare, probably."

"Mama goo!"

"Sorry, Johnny, that would be your worst nightmare." The women laughed. The baby giggled, as if he understood the joke. She stood, lifted the infant and kissed him. Bounced him gently as he held onto her shirt, prattling. "Let's go get some dinner."

"What about John?"

Moira shrugged. "He knows where the cafeteria is. Besides, knowing John he's probably doing something involving guns or ammunition. It's one of his happy places. Let's go, Johnny. If you're good you can have a taste of some ice cream."

"GA!" the baby exclaimed, causing laughter.

John filed the last report. Looked up from the data pad as he sat in the conference room. Stomach growling. It was late. He was hungry. He stood. Stretched. Yawned. Reluctant to face people. To suffer through their concern, their advice. Sick of the attention, however well-meaning it grated on his nerves. Interfered with his private life which he preferred to be private. Even it that included a shouting match with his wife. Or imploding some Ancient tech. He grinned for a moment. Or wild, loud sex. He headed for the cafeteria. Grabbed some food and ate, ignoring the curious looks of the few people there.

"John." Carson joined him, eyed him.

John inwardly sighed. "Yes? If you must know Moira is probably putting Johnny to bed right now, okay? We don't have to be joined at the hip, you know." A more salacious image occurred in his mind but he pushed it aside, trying not to smirk.

"I wasn't going to ask, but all right."

"Oh. Then what?"

Carson smiled. "I just wanted to reassure you. About your son. He's in perfect health. As far as I can tell there would be no ill effects from having what he has." The doctor's voice lowered. "I don't know why the Ancients would expunge any records of this, considering the beneficial effects for the city, but I can assure you that wee Sheppard is fine."

"Thanks, doc. I mean I knew that already, but thanks." John sighed. Sipped his water. "I need to track down Baldy and get some real answers. Trouble is the guy can ascend whenever he wants and escape me. Damn him."

"I'll keep searching the data base and the medical records. There has to be something, John. Even a footnote, a brief about the unlikely occurrence of such an event, or the breeding for it."

"You think they bred for it?"

"It's possible. Until something went wrong or some danger was realized. I don't know. You know how the Ancients liked to tinker."

"Yeah, with humans and planets and even their own people. They were as bad as the Wraith in that respect." He frowned. Stood. "I should check on Johnny."

John strolled into his quarters. Saw Moira at the table, working on a data pad, expression serious as her gaze was glued to the screen. Her hair was loose, swirling around the lilac nightshirt she wore. Along with the fuzzy lilac socks that made him smile. Feel a surge of fondness and amusement. He moved to her. Silently set a folded piece of paper next to her.

Moira met his gaze, startled. Stared at the warmth in his brilliant green eyes. "John?"

"I'll check on junior." He crossed into the nursery, moved to the crib. He stood, staring down at the sleeping baby. Rosy cheeks. Rosy little mouth half-open in an "o" shape. Long lashes over big blue eyes. His dark, silky hair disordered as much as his father's. He was clad in a little blue sleeper. Holding onto a stuffed bear, but his stuffed plane was close as well. A soft blue blanket covered his little legs. He shifted, made a small sound, fell back to sleep.

John touched the baby's arm. Marveling how something so small, so vulnerable could have such an enormous effect on him. Could have completely changed his life, even more than the marriage to Moira had.

Moira touched the paper. It was thick, rough. She unfolded it. Recognizing it as a target for shooting practice. She smiled. The bullet holes formed a large heart-shape around the silhouette of the target. Scribbled inside was an arrow. The names _John & Moira._ The Gaelic phrase from their wedding rings _gra anois agus godeo. _Love now and forever. She smiled, felt tears. Love so strong it propelled her from the chair, from her work.

She entered the nursery. Saw John standing watch over his son. Gold city lights falling across his long, lean form. She smiled. "John."

He turned at her soft voice. Smiled as she neared quietly. The paper in her hand. "Um...yeah. Since roses didn't work I thought I'd, well, you know. That."

She stepped closer. Kissed him. "I love you, John. Let's go to bed." She took his hand, led him into their room. "I'm sorry, John. I know you'd never hurt your son. Never."

"I know you know. And the rest, well...you know." He pulled her gently to his arms. Kissed her. "Moira. My Moira. Nothing gets between us. Nothing, baby. Nothing." He freed her. "I'll get ready for bed." He strolled into the bathroom.

Moira smiled. Set the paper on the table. Powered down the data pad. Turned down the lights. She slid into the bed, sat waiting. Fingers playing with her hair. "John? Do you remember any of that stuff you saw from the podium?"

"Not much," he called from the bathroom. "Images, data...I don't know. It was a blur. A mess. Hey, Carson said something about breeding."

"Huh? Breeding what?"

John stepped out of the bathroom, clad only in a pair of black boxer shorts. He moved to the bed. "Breeding. The Ancients breeding for the double. Except it was a hit and miss thing, right? Like the ATA itself."

"Yes," she replied, watching as he got into bed beside her.

"Carson suggested they experimented. Like the Wraith."

"Probably." She sighed. "Genetic tampering. Artificial selection. But something must have happened. Something went wrong somewhere. Something so terrible they expunged their own records of it."

"Yeah. But don't you worry. Nothing like that will happen to Johnny." He kissed her. Moved her onto her back. Slid his body over hers. "Moira. Can you guess what I want to do now? Sweet and slow for my Moira. Okay, baby?"

Moira returned his kisses, shifting under him. "Yes, John, you...wait!" She pushed him back from her. Curbing her amorous reactions. "No crude talk! Okay, John? I don't like it."

"All right, baby," he soothed. "Nothing but love and romance from these lips." He kissed her. Moira, baby...so fucking sweet. That's okay, right?"

"Yes, John, just not the, the rest," she cautioned, moving again. "Oh John..." she sighed, enjoying his sensual explorations, attentions. Kissing him as her hands ran along his bare back. Until he suddenly stopped, lifting off her. "What is it?"

"Am I still your sweetie?" he asked suddenly. Brows furrowed in concern. Oddly serious even as his body was pressed to hers. All too eager to join with hers.

Moira smiled. "Yes, you are. Don't be silly, John." She kissed him. Shifting to invite him, encourage him. Could feel the hard length of him between her legs. But he stopped again.

"Then say it, baby. Say it," he suggested, voice low. Almost shyly met her gaze.

"I thought you didn't want me to call you that during sex, John," she countered.

He shrugged. "I don't. But this is just foreplay, baby. And we are going to take our sweet, sweet time. So?" He waited, oddly uneasy lest she not say it.

Moira kissed him. "John? Okay, sweetie." She kissed him again, pulling him closer. Whispered in his ear, "John's my sweetie. My sweetie. Make love with me, sweetie."

He smiled, grinned happily. "As ordered, baby."


End file.
